“You’re my hero,” I joked, looking around again.

   “She’s up in her room. Hasn’t been down yet.”

   I nodded; I was a little worried about her reaction to me being there.

   Mary handed me the cold iced tea just as I turned the tap off. She gazed out the window and watched the rest of the guys at work. “Dean will be so happy when he gets home.”

   “Yeah? He’s not gonna be mad?”

   “Why would he be mad?”

   I turned so my back was against the counter. “I just don’t want him to think that I’m doing his job or something.”

   “Honey, Dean has a job. He works six days a week and provides for our family. So what if we don’t have the nicest house on the street?” She shrugged. “So what if he doesn’t spend his time away from that job weeding the yard? I could get a job. I’ve offered, but he doesn’t want me to. He says that being a mom, taking care of our family, that’s more than enough work. And when he has any spare time, he spends it with Chloe and the kids. It’s important to him that we do everything we can so that the kids know we’re here for them.” She took the glass from my hand, refilled it, and handed it back. “So no, Blake. He won’t be offended. He’ll be enormously thankful.”

   “Good. Because I wanted to put this in the yard when it’s done . . .” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the page I had ripped out of the Toys “R” Us catalog. But before I could show her, Chloe walked in.

   “Who the hell are all those guys in—” She froze midstep.

   My eyes nearly fell out of my head.

   She was wearing a white bikini top. Tiny shorts. Nothing else. She was even hotter than my imagination had given her credit for. She was tanned, which surprised me, because she didn’t seem to be the type to be out there working on her tan—or whatever the hell it was chicks did.

   “What are you doing here?”

   She had a mole on her right breast. It was tiny. Right above where the bikini covered. Then her arms blocked the view.

   My eyes snapped to hers. I was staring at her tits. Holy shit.

   Her face flushed red as she clamped her mouth shut, trying to hide her smile.

   I cleared my throat. “Um.” That was all I could get out.

   “He’s clearing the yard for us,” Mary answered for me.

   “You and whose army?” she asked, smiling openly now.

   Mary giggled. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

   I never took my eyes off Chloe. She watched Mary leave the room before stepping closer to me.

   “Blake?”

   “Uh?”

   “I didn’t know you were coming today, I made plans with Clayton.”

   I couldn’t stop staring at her breasts.

   “Blake!”

   My eyes snapped to hers, and I shook my head, clearing the thoughts that were running wild in my mind. And then I laughed, because I didn’t know what else to do. She was driving me insane. “It’s okay,” I told her. “You’d just be a distraction anyway. Go. Leave.”

   She chuckled and walked away.

   I stared at her ass.

   “Holy shit,” I mumbled.

   “Blake,” Mary said, walking back into the kitchen. “That’s kind of my daughter you’re drooling over.”

   I wiped my mouth. My cheeks burned. “Sorry.”

   She laughed.

   I was glad she found it funny. My dick sure as shit didn’t.

   Chloe

   “I don’t think this is it, Chloe.”

   I looked down at the picture in my hand. Mom and Aunt Tilly as teenagers, hanging out with their friends by a lake . . . or a river. The picture had faded and creased over the years, so it was hard to make out. “Yeah, I don’t think it is, either.” I tried to hide the sadness in my voice, but Clayton could always tell.

   “I’m sorry,” he said, walking up the rocky embankment toward me. He pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me.

   “It’s okay,” I hugged him back and spoke into his chest. “I’ll just keep searching. We’ll find it next time.”

   He squeezed me tighter. “You bring any food? I’m starving.”

   “Mary called.”

   I quirked an eyebrow.

   That made him laugh, but only for a moment, before he sighed and set his sandwich on the rug we were sitting on. “You know I’ve never been one to give you advice or judge you or try to make you think that what you’re feeling is wrong.”

   He was right, which meant that whatever he was about to say held a certain significance. I watched as his eyes roamed my face, searching for something that probably wasn’t there. Clayton had been through a lot in his life. His eyes—to me—always held a familiarity to them. A sense of home, if ever I had one. Despite how much he’d grown up the past few years, his eyes always reminded me of the kid who I was first introduced to.

   I dropped my sandwich, faced the river, and brought my knees up to my chest. “Out with it,” I told him

   “I just worry about you, Chloe.”

   I rolled my eyes.

   “I know you’re rolling your eyes.”

   I turned to glare at him.

   “You think I need to see you to know what you’re doing? That’s ass, and you know it.”

   “Whatever.”

   “All I’m saying is that I worry. I worry that you’re not getting the best out of your life.”

   I went to interrupt, but he raised his hand to stop me.

   “Just let me speak, please?”

   I nodded but kept my eyes on the glistening water.

   “I get why you do what you do . . . why you shut yourself off from the rest of the world and the people around you. But I’m scared for you. I’m scared that maybe you’ll do it, and it will all be for nothing. Maybe you’ll live to be a hundred.”

   “There’s a fifty-fifty chance I carry that gene, Clay.”

   “I know that. And you know that I know that. But that’s a fifty percent chance you don’t carry it, Chloe. And even if you do—it doesn’t necessarily mean cancer, and it might not get you as young as it got them. It might come a lot later in your life. It might not happen at all. Don’t you think that means something? That has to mean something. And the fact that you refuse to get checked . . . I mean . . . things have advanced since your mom—”